


Opalescence (not meant for your eyes)

by Erodite



Category: The Persuaders
Genre: 1970s, Accidental (kind of) Voyeurism, Fluff, M/M, Not Episode Related, Period-Typical Homophobia, but not really, but only subliminally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-28 09:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erodite/pseuds/Erodite
Summary: He could see them now, in the fractured shadows of the villa.





	Opalescence (not meant for your eyes)

A layer of whirled up dust settled on the dark blue of his rented Mercedes as Judge Fulton shut down its engine underneath a rotten pine tree, next to Danny's Dino. He closed its door carefully and quickly orientated himself. His team had just ended one of the most complex tasks he'd ever dealt with, a human trafficking ring whose network operated in Italy, Spain and England. It took months and a painful amount of funds to track down the ones who pulled the strings behind the scene.

The final show down had happened here - about ten minutes ago - in the long-abandoned ruins of an old villa in the Tuscany wasteland where the band of criminals had entrenched themselves for the last day.

He had already met the majority of his agents in the driveway and got the gist of the happenings from a hurried exchange of a few words. They have managed to take six captives which were now tied down in the back of their black van. The casualties had to be dealt with later.

For a start, he wanted to have an overview of the scene himself.

The place laid in ruins, only the naked structure of the once pompous villa was still intact, but slowly taken back by nature. It was not visible from the road or even from the only access, a trail through a grown in olive grove. He circled around a big pile of stone and debris when he heard Brett's voice, a little out of breath.

"Everything's clear in the back garden!"

"The house's safe too." Danny answered.

He could see them now, in the fractured shadows of the villa. His arrival went unnoticed as he was still hidden by the line of trees. Danny swiftly hopped out of a window as Brett was hobbling towards him while pressing a piece of cloth firmly to his right hip.

"You've got hit." Danny exclaimed, emergency and concern swinging in his voice.

"It's a minor scratch, Daniel, no need to worry." Brett tried to calm him, but the forced tone of his voice revealed a seething pain underneath.

"Let me look at it." Danny demanded while stepping closer and gently pushing Brett's hand away.

Worry pooled in Fulton's stomach as he saw the wound and the cloth covered in dark red blood. Danny inspected it with a frown but then only gave the leg a sympathetic pat.

"You're right, it's only superficial. For god's sake." Danny said, a strange exhaustion and relief in his voice.

Something shifted in the air then, something he couldn't exactly pinpoint, but Fulton stopped, not making the last step out from the treeline, unsure why he was bothering to hide his presence at all.

"I'm alright, Danny." Brett said then, soft and intimate, taking Danny's face between his hands. Danny observed him for a moment and then pulled him into a tight embrace. Brett pressed his face in the crook of Danny's neck while Danny whispered something - too low to understand for Fulton - in Brett's ear. As they disconnected, Fulton was in move to make the step out from the grove as Danny cradled Brett's face between his hands and kissed him on the mouth, smooth and quickly. And both smiled when they parted.

Fulton shifted his weight from one foot to another and a branch snapped underneath and left him with no time to think about what he had just witnessed. At once, he reacted.

"Danny? Brett?" he called - his voice intentionally layered with a questioning undertone - and stepped into the sunlight, deliberately not looking in their direction.

"We're over here!" Danny called back and waved unnecessarily.

Fulton hurried over and greeted them both with a firm handshake. Their demeanour revealed nothing - the perfect facade – and reminded Fulton why he had hired them in the first place.

"Excellent work," he congratulated and made sure to enquire about Brett's wound which was indeed a minor bullet wound, yet still bleeding.

“His Lordship is more worried about the loss of his suit trouser.” Danny commented cheekily - like he hasn’t been deeply concerned about Brett’s well-being just two minutes ago.

"Without the trouser, the suit is unusable now, Daniel." Brett said and shot him a half-annoyed look.

Fulton forced down a smile and guided them back towards his car where a box of first aid material was tucked in the boot. In the meantime, Danny reported the course of events and the location of the bodies in his typical flowery language, and Brett added details here and then.

Two hours later, Fulton had finished a sketch of the surroundings and gathered enough information for his report. After everything else was taken care of, too, he headed back to the airport. Danny and Brett had already left in Danny’s red Dino half an hour ago. The road was pleasantly quiet, and Fulton’s thoughts returned to the moment he witnessed earlier.

It probably was an adrenaline drunken decision - born in the heat of the moment out of relief that the bullet touched but not hit Brett. Very definite, actually, it had to be. A sweet gesture between two friends with one of them having problems with boundaries, anyway. And the sun was searing today – which was also a factor that should not be underestimated in its impact on unusual behaviour.

Fulton wiped some droplets of sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief.

On the other hand,  _their smiles_  afterwards.

Their friendship was something he never got behind, wary yet so intense and always tamed by the prominent disguise of hate.

Maybe  _maybe_  he could use that on them, in the right moment, if necessary, some time.  _You never know what the future demands._

 

~~*~~

Months later, Fulton arrived at Heathrow with five high classified dossiers tucked in his leathern briefcase. He had managed to get an earlier than planned flight back home. Jetlag kept him broad awake, yet it was already ten thirty at night, London time. As he didn't know which hotel Danny preferred these times, he gave Brett's address to the cab driver. Fulton had no doubt that the late hour didn’t matter for the Lord and he could give him the basics of the new case - which demanded a sensitive urgency – still today.

As expected, dim light was shining from the living room windows on the first floor. He paid the driver quickly and recapitulated the data of the dossiers in his head on the way up to Brett’s apartment. Softly, he knocked against the wooden door.

No reaction followed.

After a quick consideration, Fulton fished for a key in his pocket, unlocked and cautiously opened the door.

Two used wine glasses were sitting on the coffee table, one still full to one quarter with red wine, and an empty bottle resting next to them.

 _Damn it, he has a girl over_  Fulton thought annoyed, let his eyes wander and hitched his breath.

Brett was lying outstretched on the sofa, deep asleep, relaxed and urged in the cushions.

 _But_  it was Danny who was cuddled close to him, head nestled on Brett's chest, moving with the up and down of Brett's breathing. One of his legs was firmly placed between Brett's while Brett was hugging him loosely, preventing him from falling from the sofa. They were both in pyjamas and Danny’s striped one looked suspiciously like one of Brett’s.

The room was dead silent except for Brett's faint snoring. It was a picture of pure homely bliss. And there was no question about how to interpret the scene.

_No other way._

Fulton didn't dare to breath.

Slowly,  _very slowly_ , he closed the door, inch by inch, praying that the wood wouldn't make a sound. Relief washed through him when he finally breathed in and oxygen rushed into his lunges as he stood a little bit lost in the entrance hall. He loosened his tie and flattened his coat before he headed back outside. On autopilot, he hailed a cab and quickly told the driver the address of his own apartment.

Fulton felt anger swelling inside him – anger about his interfered plans, anger about the now delayed investigations. Which were, in hindsight, petty reasons. He was angry about their carelessness, about the danger they created with  _whatever_ they thought they were doing, about the conceitedness they both indulged in with thinking that they could keep something big like  _this_  a secret.

In retrospect, he should have connected the loose ends much earlier - without the need of any visual evidence. But he had always prided himself in not being invasive of his agents' personal matters – despite the blackmailing and manipulating every so often – and the ongoing escapades of Brett and Danny were none of his business except when they threatened to interfere with their cases.

The signs were there all along.

They wined and dined with gorgeous women as ever – just two weeks ago he had met them at the club with two beauties socialising at their sides. But Fulton didn't remember to encounter one of them back at the apartment or in hotel rooms any more, even in the ungodly hours he showed up there.

 _Since when actually?_   He couldn't remember the turning point.

The constant touching should have also been an indicator – well, Danny’s touching most times. It was so casual, so normal that he didn’t bear thinking about it. But then, they were always this close, up in each other spaces. And  _in sync_ , communicating only with a subtle glance or flicker of emotion when needed.

Slowly, Fulton felt the initial anger transform into something entirely else, a sudden protectiveness, an urge to shield the vast degree of vulnerability their secret entailed. He didn’t endorse that kind of lifestyle, but he knew they needed an ally - especially if he wanted to assign them further on. And if he refrained from using the information against them, no one else should be able to either.

At home, he stopped at his tumbler – even before he’d tucked away the dossiers in his safe - and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey.

"Hard day?" His wife greeted him from the bedroom door. 

"You have no idea, darling." Fulton said before he put down the glass to give her a kiss on the cheek.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) for a small comment I'd be over the moon!


End file.
